The Rains of Arendelle
by axiom900
Summary: When Anna's claim to the Seven Kingdoms is realized, Elsa joins the Kingsguard to protect her. Their estranged relationship slowly develops as a potent force moves North to lay siege to Arendelle and claim the coveted Iron Throne. Medieval/Game of Thrones AU! Elsanna.
1. The Storm

**Ch. 1: The Storm  
**

An arrow fluttered past his head as he collapsed, clutching his abdomen. His eyes flittered nervously from the hot sand to his crimson-blotted chainmail as he gasped for air and used one hand to prop himself up. He did his best to ignore the searing pain and slowly placed his hand on the felt hilt of a sheathed sword, his grip slackening as he realized the nature of his fate. As quixotic and strong a warrior as the king of Arendelle knew and claimed himself to be, even he couldn't lie to himself and brush off the gaping gash in his abdomen and twin arrows in his shoulder as mere 'flesh wounds'. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed his hands on his helmet, unceremoniously ripping the ornament from his head and throwing it off with apathy.

"A necessary boost in morale" he laughed bitterly as he attempted to balance himself.

Although he had already anticipated his fate when his scouts in neutral waters had reported the presence of some two hundred armored ships sailing towards Arendelle shores, this knowledge did nothing to alleviate the ghastly pain and desperation that enveloped him. He had always known that if Arendelle were to even have the slightest chance against the enormous invading army of Carnath, absolutely every resource at his disposal would have to be poured into making sure that the fight was contained at the enormous city walls—the king's presence and the boost in morale associated with that presence perhaps the most valuable of those resources.

Even still, he inwardly mourned—mourned for his soldiers, mourned for the families that they would leave behind, but most of all, mourned for his young daughter just a few clicks west on the other side of the Great Arendelle Wall.

"_Anna."_ He murmured.

If the Carnathite army managed to dismantle the stronghold and usurp the city, neither woman nor child would be spared. The new monarch would undoubtedly make a show of his power and slaughter hundreds if not thousands to instill fear into his new subjects and make his claim to the throne known throughout the seven kingdoms. Although the capital would surely be pillaged and its inhabitants slaughtered and raped, he couldn't bear to imagine the punishment that would await the daughter and sole bloodline to the previous king. He seized and shuddered as the image of his daughter's pale head on a spike flitted across his thoughts. If she paid the iron price, it would be because he had failed his kingdom.

"Your grace!" a loud shout boomed from nearby.

King Agdar turned his head slowly towards the source of the noise and blinked drowsily, attempting to clear the dust and tears that had collected in his eyes. He recognized the speaker as Ser Dracus, the commander of the Kingsguard and his most trusted advisor and friend. His golden and highly decorated armor shone brightly and beautifully in the mid-day sun as he clambered towards the king, brandishing his Valyrian steel to the few and unlucky Carnathite soldiers that stood between himself and his king.

Dracus quickly grabbed onto the king's arm and attempted to hoist him up, ignoring the protest and groans that emanated from the king's blood-filled mouth. Dracus grimaced at the sight of the two arrows lodged in the king's shoulder.

"I will not let you die here your grace. Come! I will get you behind the walls but we must move quickly!" Dracus shouted, attempting to drag the king across the battlefield.

"It's too late" whispered the king as he removed his hand from his torso. Dracus gazed upon the king's crumpled armor and the crimson fluid that flowed from a deep axe wound on his torso. He let his previously firm grip slacken as he moved to release the king's arm.

As he stumbled, the king glanced around the battlefield, eying the chaotic fighting with a sense of numbness. The battlefield was rife with the clashing of sword metal and the ever so pervasive smell of blood saturated the air. Squeezing his eyes shut once again, he summoned all of his remaining might and stood to his full, impressive height and unsheathed his sword in an aggressive yet fluid motion.

He shot a glance at Dracus and a bloodied smile crossed his lips.

"You made me a promise once my old friend," the king breathed out lowly as he moved to place his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You told me that you would never abandon my cause or leave my side. I propose we end this battle. What say you now?"

"I say let there be wine in heaven, my king," Dracus responded with hardly a moment's hesitation. "You are the best man I have ever known Agdar. A far better man than I. It has been an honor serving you your grace."

"It is an honor that I have ever been able to call you a friend," the king said. Then suddenly, with a thrust of his arm and a bellow that resonated like thunder incarnate, Agdar yelled out:

"For Arendelle!"

His cry was met with triumphant cheers among his scattered troops as he and Ser Dracus charged headlong into the sea of black-clad Carnathites and fulfilled their duties as king and king's guard.


	2. A Coat of Red & Gold

**Ch. 2: A Coat of Red & Gold**

**A/N:** Although I used a lot of the names from the _Game of Thrones_ TV show and _ASOIAF _novels, this isn't the Westeros you might be used to. I added and removed some kingdoms here and there for the sake of the story. Thanks for reading!

* * *

The royal bunker was damp and the walls smelled strongly of mold and dust. Anna sat in an isolated corner, twiddling her thumbs nervously and humming an old maid's song in hopes of drowning out the panicked cries and fervent prayers that emanated from the frenzied women around her. The women, mostly castle servants and maids, littered the small safe room and made their dread known through frequent sniffles and the occasional shriek. Although a few of the older servants had experienced similar sieges in their lifetimes and were able to conjure a façade of calm, the vast majority of the girls were younger and their panic was evident in their every erratic breath and trembling action. With few exceptions, most of the women wore dark, tired eyes and sheet-pale complexions. Although Anna sympathized with the others and shared their fears, the sobs and alarm that permeated the small room did little to soothe her and help her maintain the calm composure she so desperately needed to maintain.

"_Papa_" she muttered worriedly to herself as she plucked idly at a loose hangnail on her delicate finger.

Although her father was the greatest warrior she knew, she desperately feared for his life. She had heard countless stories about the mercilessness and brutality of previous Carnathite conquests and not a single one had failed to make her body go rigid with fear. Carnath was a relatively small kingdom, located directly south of Arendelle and its capital of King's Landing. The two kingdoms were separated by a large sea and jagged, snowy mountains where the peninsulas joined the mainland. However, despite its rather unimpressive size, Carnath's population was dense and prided itself as the most potent and powerful warrior culture in all of Westeros. This fact, in tandem with its legendary navy made Carnath's military one of the most fearsome forces in recorded history. Which was exactly why Anna was horrified for her father and the kingdom.

Hours upon hours passed without any news of the whereabouts of her father or the results of the siege.

"I'm not dead yet, that has to be a good sign," she thought darkly as she blew a loose strand of fiery hair out of her face.

Although the bunker was largely soundproof and partially underground, occasionally an exceptionally loud cry from the nearby battlefield would echo through the small room and serve to further set Anna's teeth on edge. More than once, Anna ventured to the door in an attempt to sneak out and investigate on her own, but she was unfailingly stopped at the exit by a guard each time and promptly ordered to return to the confines of the bunker for her own protection.

As she scowled and marched her way back with a little more force than was necessary, she noticed a young girl possibly five or six years her junior, sniffling wildly in a corner. She slowed her rather aggressive strut and carefully sat down and slid herself closer until she sat a mere few inches away from the girl's shaking form. She slowly lowered her hand onto the girl's back and cooed softly.

"Shh, shh, shh," Anna whispered kindly. Upon hearing the princess's voice and feeling a gentle hand at her back, the girl seized up and abruptly turned to face Anna. Her slender face was red and tearlines marked her pale cheeks. "It'll be alright" Anna smiled.

"My father…he-he's out there," the girl choked out after furiously scrubbing at her already red eyes and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Mine is too," she whispered. "I've met the army dozens of times. They're brave. All of them. I'm sure they're perfectly fine." She said softly.

The little girl offered a small smile, which Anna returned. However, despite her own kind words, she still inwardly grimaced as her previous fears briefly flashed into her consciousness.

Suddenly, loud and urgent sounding footsteps echoed through the corridor and Anna reflexively jumped. Immediately, the guards outside of the chamber doors drew their swords and entered into a tight-knit battle stance. The footsteps grew louder and louder until a single young man sharply turned the corner and nearly doubled back in surprise when he saw the phalanx of armed guards.

Anna stood to look and lifted herself onto the balls of her feet in order to get a better view. Upon seeing the young man, Anna instantly recognized him as Adrian, Ser Dracus's young squire. Although he looked exhausted from his sprint, his features were drawn into a grim expression.

"Adrian!" She yelled through cupped hands. Upon closer recognition of the boy, the guards lowered their swords and stepped aside to let him into the chamber. He walked briskly through the doorway and thinned his lips before speaking.

"Your highness," he bowed. Anna nodded and he continued after fidgeting with his bootstrap for a few moments. "The attack has been repelled and the Carnathite forces have been completely slaughtered at the gates."

Anna winced slightly at the choice of words, but a weight lifted off her shoulders all the same and she nearly sighed aloud in relief as she processed the welcome news.

"…But not without great sacrifice your majesty," he breathed. Anna's nose scrunched up at the odd pause and incorrect title usage. She had known Adrian for years and not once had he mistakenly used her father's title to address her—not even in casual passing. Anna felt her stomach drop and she audibly gulped as panic surged through her.

"My father. Where is he?" she ground out, voice frantic. The hushed silence that fell on the room upon Adrian's entrance intensified as all eyes turned towards the princess and the young messenger.

"Princess Anna, I am sorry…but… he fell in battle after leading the charge. Without his sacrifice, the troops would surely not have had the morale to continue! I-I've already informed the council and I thought…" his voice faded out as Anna's eyes filled to the brim with tears upon recognizing the implications of the information.

"_No,"_ she whispered as she fell to her knees with a painful crash. Tears poured from her eyes and a thick fog enveloped her as she sobbed loudly and piercingly. She felt her veins all but shrivel up and her heart beat erratically as she envisioned her father's kind face and warm laugh. Her father, _her world_, was torn and shattered with those few simple words. His life was extinguished and not all the soldiers in the Seven Kingdoms nor all the gold to pay them with could bring him back.

"_In the game of thrones, you either win or you die. There is no middle ground,"_ the familiar adage raced across her thoughts as she finally succumbed to the darkness and collapsed.

* * *

Elsa stared at herself in the silver mirror, eyes nonchalantly glancing over her haphazardly done braid and the golden locks spooling over her creamy white skin. She sat perfectly still on her bed, her hands in her lap and her legs arranged so that they were angled slightly to the side. Although she resembled the idyllic picture of perfect grace and nobility, she couldn't help but feel a fraud.

Her father and other brave men were valiantly fighting to defend their kingdom, while she glared at her own reflection and sat helplessly, relegated to waiting; useless to affect the outcome. A cry longed to burst free from her lips as she grasped at the blankets on her bed, her knuckles turning white from exertion. She laughed bitterly as she thought of the inexperienced farmers, butchers, and other tradesmen that were conscripted to defend the kingdom against the invaders. She had little doubt that most had never even so much as held a sword before they were called upon to defend Arendelle and its people. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was unfair that others, who had never had a single violent thought in their lives, were suddenly thrust into the front lines to be slaughtered, when she, a highly capable and seasoned swordsman was forbidden to fulfill her duty simply because she was a woman.

As much as she enjoyed more "noble" pursuits like reading and calligraphy, for her, there was no pleasure superior to that of swinging and thrusting a blade, her hands gripped tightly and confidently around a felt-wrapped hilt. She grew up a student of the sword, and she found no art more beautiful than the art of parries and thrusts; the stroke of a clean jab and the grace of two steel arms as they danced. Her lips unconsciously quirked into a half smile as she remembered her sword fighting lessons with her father when she was younger and the one-sided battles with the other children when they would spar with branches and twigs.

Although she had resisted when her father first insisted that she learn to properly handle a sword, years and years of involved, personal training had forged her into a fine-tuned weapon and she admired him for it. As she grew older, she began to better understand the depth of her father's skill and reputation. Ser Dracus of house Westergaard was rumored to be _the_ best swordsman in Westeros and was revered and loved by men and women alike. When he was promoted to commander of the Kingsguard under King Agdar, Elsa swelled with pride. Her father was more than capable of defending himself she thought. Arendelle would be fine and more importantly, her father would return victorious at the day's end.

She was jolted from her thoughts when she heard a rather harsh wrapping at the chamber entrance. She quickly lifted up her mattress and pulled out a spare sword from underneath and wrested her hand on its handle as she inched closer towards the door. However, her grip relaxed when she realized that an invader (most likely) wouldn't have bothered with such a formality. She gave a mirthless chuckle and pulled the door open slightly to reveal a bald, round man who Elsa immediately recognized as Draven, a member of the king's small council.

"Hello, Elsa," he said, his knuckles still hovering above the door as he peered through the small opening between the door and the frame.

"Hello, Draven," Elsa replied in as neutral a tone as she could muster. Though the man had never given Elsa any explicit reason to distrust him, the falsely cheery tone in which he spoke set her teeth on edge and gave her the impression that his every word was coldly calculated.

"May I come in please? I bear news about the siege," he said with a large grin as he moved to place his hands together inside his large sleeves.

"Just a moment," Elsa returned as she closed the door. She walked slowly to her bed and slipped her sword under the bed so that she had easy access to it. After making sure that it was out of sight, she glided towards the door and unlocked it easily with a _*click*_.

"Come in, counselor," Elsa said as she moved aside for him to step in.

"How are you child? You must be scared out of your wits with all of this fighting raging outside our doorstep," Draven said with a dramatic flourish as he walked towards the counter and picked up a bottle of wine. "Drink?" He smiled coyly.

"No…thank you," Elsa said quickly as Draven set down her father's bottle rather roughly.

"Ah, none for me either! Most men love their wine more than they love their women. They swear that it helps them _think_ and _focus_ and _fight_," he said, using hand motions to help accentuate his point. "Though perhaps true for some…with all the drunks in Arendelle, wouldn't you think that we would have already conquered all of Essos if that were the case?" he paused and then chuckled quietly. "No, no, but wine sets me on edge, child. Dulls my senses a bit much, and I need to be quick on my feet," he motioned as he retracted his hand form his sleeve and pointed his index finger at his temple. A smile crept up his face.

"You said you bore news about the battle?" Elsa said uneasily after a few moments.

"Ah yes of course. The barbarians have been stopped at the gates. Such joyous news." He clapped his hands together and its echo permeated the room for a moment.

Although Elsa should have been ecstatic at the news, her facial expression remained stony. She figured that if the Carnathites had actually had a powerful enough force to break through the gates, that they surely would have done so within the first hour or two. Instead, she had sat still in her room for nearly six hours, her worry mostly abated after the fourth had passed. Several moments drew on in silence until Draven paced slightly to his left towards the chamber entrance. Although the action was minute, Elsa was perceptive and this odd act drew her suspicion. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"However, I am afraid your father has…passed during the fighting. A noble warrior's death of course. I am told that he and the king were able to lie together in their final moments." Draven's mouth thinned. "They were always the best of friends," He added quietly.

Although she had prepared for the worst, the news hit her like a strike to the gut—Draven's nonchalant tone only serving to worsen the blow.

"_Leave,"_ Elsa hissed as she felt her body go numb.

"I offer you my deepest condolences," Draven smiled politely and bowed as he stepped towards the door and shut it quietly.


	3. On Her Majesty's Honor

**Ch. 3: On Her Majesty's Honor**

**A/N:** Summer is coming. And so too are updates.

* * *

Anna took in a deep breath of air, visibly shaking from the tension that clouded her thoughts and set her nerves ablaze. She exhaled shortly and closed her eyes in an attempt to steady her shivers and erratic breaths.

"I'm ready," she said after finally having regained her composure.

Kai, the Grand Maester and a close friend of her father's, gave a slight smile as he gestured to the two guards on either side of the enormous, bi-paneled door. They bowed, and slowly approached the door, pulling the two highly decorated slabs of wood in either direction, their rattling chainmail playing in tandem with the harmony of the door's harsh creaking.

As the two sides of the large gate were pulled apart from one another, a massive crowd of noblemen and lords materialized into Anna's vision. They almost nearly filled up either side of the massive throne room, leaving only a narrow corridor in the center that was marked by an elegant crimson and gold carpet—one that stretched from the entrance to the cobbled steps that housed the Iron Throne. She glanced over quickly at the large and ominous seat that rested at the far side of the room. It was colossal. An ugly, asymmetric thing lined with sharp, jagged edges from the melted swords of fallen enemies. According to legend, it had been forged from the flames of the last great dragon, Balerion, to commemorate the victory of The First's conquest of Westeros. She shuddered. If she were being completely honest, its mere presence made her uneasy.

"Come my queen," Kai urged her lightly. She realized that she had stopped entirely for a few moments.

She resumed her slow march, her flowing dress trailing slightly behind her as she walked. Each step she took was quiet, yet with the silence that befell the room, the subtle click of her shoes against the carpeted floor was easily audible. As she approached the steps, a scattered ray of light from the glass panes above caught her eye and nearly threatened her balance. She quickly found her footing and took her place next to the High Septon, the leader of the royal clergy. Her eyes found the coronet resting in the man's large hands. It was a thin, bronze band, decorated sparsely with jewels and precious stones and lined with a light dusting of diamonds around its base.

"Ahem," the Septon coughed to quiet the soft whispers that pervaded the room upon Anna's near-accident. He took a step towards her and raised the crown so that it hovered slightly above her head.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the crowning of Arendelle's princess and rightful queen, Anna of House Froiland," he began, the smooth timbre of his voice carrying loudly over the crowd. "…Upon the untimely passing of King Agdar the Great of House Froiland, the first of his name."

Anna gritted her teeth inwardly at the mention of her father, the outlines of her jaw subtly jutting through the skins of her cheeks. She held her eyes closed for a fraction of a second longer than was necessary as she blinked to calm herself. Though she had resolved to save her grieving for another day, even the few words tore at wounds that she had sworn to herself had already scabbed over.

"May the Father, he the source of divine judgment, make her a fair and honorable ruler. May the Mother, protector of the young and the embodiment of mercy and compassion, lead her reign and be at the forefront of her thoughts," the stocky man continued with a drawl.

"May the Warrior grant her courage, and protect her at these perilous times. The Smith, grant her strength that she might bare this heavy burden. May the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show her the path that she must walk and guide her through the dark places that lie ahead," he took a brief pause upon looking at Anna's face which suddenly looked pale.

"Are you alright, your highness?" he whispered, not unkindly.

Anna nodded but a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek and she felt a chill ghost across her skin.

He took her affirmation as a sign to continue. "Then, in the light of The Seven, I now proclaim Anna of the House Froiland, first of her name, _queen_ of the Andals and the first men, and _ruler_ of the Seven Kingdoms… Long may she reign!" he bellowed.

"Long may she reign!" a resounding chorus of voices from the crowd echoed the sentiment.

She allowed an artificial smile to cross her features as the crowd broke into a roar of applause and cheers. However, her expression grew into one of authenticity as her eyes drifted to the figure of a burly young man in the back of the large room, face bearing a wild grin and hands clapping together with a fervency like she had never seen. His dirty blonde locks hung past his ears and his brown eyes shone with mirth.

After lingering on the man for a few seconds, she absently scanned the room for other familiar faces, the thundering applause showing no signs of letting up. Suddenly, her muscles froze and her eyes grew slightly wider as they unconsciously settled on something steely and bright. Her senses dulled as the air and commotion around her grew subdued and mute; the previous applause replaced by a dim ringing. A pair of piercing blue eyes stared back at her, boring into her own like a Valyrian-steeled knife. The woman wore wild blonde curls with a thick braid wrapping around the shoulders of a glacier-hue dress. Suddenly, she turned away sharply and cut through the crowd as she walked towards an exit. Anna's lip twitched.

"_Elsa_,_"_ she whispered.


	4. The Small Council

**Ch. 4: The Small Council**

**A/N: **The story is finally moving. Reads, reviews, and follows are always welcome obviously. Also, I have no idea how some authors write so much.

Anna tapped her foot with noted disinterest as the three men around her continued their conversation. The small council chamber was of a moderate size with a pair of small windows decorating either side of the room. A large tapestry hung to her left and the table was decorated with a crimson cover, embroidered at the edges with gold. A pair of sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces. Glowing candles provided light in an otherwise dim room.

The first man, Draven, was a eunuch and held the title of 'Master of Whispers'. Though Anna had invariably seen him around the palace and in her father's employ, his official duties were known to few outside of the council. He was a bald, stocky man who spoke in a voice an octave too high and wore robes three sizes too large with characteristically loose sleeves.

The second man stood a mere few inches above Anna and had slick, jet-black hair with a dusting of white where the tips met his ears. His face was long with a sharp chin and his moustache jutted out sharply from either side of his upper lip. Lord Aylesh was the Master of Coin for the royal family and was heralded for being as thrifty as he was charming. Anna knew little about him aside from the fact that he ran a popular brothel in the city in addition to his palace duties.

The third was Anna's tutor and the Grand Maester of the palace, Kai. He had known her father since his birth, and had acted as a loyal servant of the crown since his appointment many decades earlier. He had a broad, wide nose and thin strips of hair lay strewn across his head. As customary for a maester, he wore a large brown robe clasped together with an array of chains—some holding tiny viles of oddly colored liquids.

"What are your thoughts on the matter, my queen?" Draven implored as he turned to face Anna.

Anna's foot stopped mid-tap and she lifted her neck from the slouching position that it had previously occupied. "Um," she hummed as she struggled to grasp at the floating words in her thoughts.

"Anna, your absolute and undivided attention is of the utmost importance during these meetings. You are the ruler of the realm and your subjects are depending on you," Kai chided her. "This is no time to daydream or sit idly."

Anna's face reddened at the admonishment from the older man. She suddenly felt a child again. "I'm sorry Kai… I just didn't get a lot of rest last night. You'll have my full attention from here on forward, I promise."

"I'm glad, because—" Kai started.

"Don't be silly my queen, there is nothing to apologize for. I understand that these meetings can be rather tedious," Draven interrupted with a raised palm. "The subject at hand is rather urgent but if you are feeling ill rested, might I suggest we continue this meeting another time?" he smiled.

"My, when did you become such a gentleman Lord Draven?" Aylesh said, his odd dialect carrying across the table. Draven shot a pointed look at him but turned his attention back to Anna after a beat.

"No no, I'm fine. We should definitely continue. Um, what was it that you were saying again Lord Draven?" Anna said.

"Our friend here was saying that we need to take action quickly. We cannot simply let the Tawns sit in their castle at Carnath after killing our _king_." Aylesh stared at Anna for a moment. "I dare say it would not inspire confidence in our people if rebellions were left to fester and rebels left with their heads still on their shoulders," he finished as he leaned back in his chair.

"My little birds have told me that Lord Heath of House Tawn has expressed interest in bending the knee to you, your grace. He offers gold and rubies in exchange for his insolence," Draven added.

Anna stared blankly at the table in front of her. On the one hand, the rebellion had not only cost the kingdom thousands of fighting men and hordes of gold in armor and supplies, but it had also led to the death of her father. Though she longed for justice, she had no overpowering desire to prolong an unnecessary war. She suddenly felt very ill equipped to handle such a major decision.

"What do you propose we do?" Anna said uneasily after mulling over the different scenarios. The men stared at her before Aylesh motioned to speak.

"Well, perhaps we ought feign acceptance and invite him to the capitol along with his bannermen and sons. At any decent rate, we can have them slaughtered in a fortnight," he said with an even tone.

"Are you so quick to invite war onto our doorstep?" Kai exclaimed as he pushed his chair back and stood.

"Yes, a war that we would already be poised to win. If we can kill their Lords and dismantle the chain of command, what would be left of their loyalists? A body that lacks a brain to control it is a rather useless body," Aylesh softly palmed and cradled the silver coin in his hand.

"If there is war, you'd be foolish to think that every kingdom would flock to our cause. The Southern Isles already resent our rule. Starting a war might give them the excuse they are looking for to storm our gates," Kai replied, his face still flush red.

"It would be a bloody war for both," Draven offered.

"There will be no war. Send a bird to Carnath and tell Lord Heath that I will accept his conditions of surrender," Anna said, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Nobody else needs to die," she whispered softly as if only speaking to herself.

Kai nodded and pulled his chair in while Aylesh slunk back into his without a word. After a minute of silence, Draven spoke.

"Now that the main issue has been resolved, it would be wise to move on to other concerns," he said. "It seems as though the battle has left us with more than an absent king I'm afraid. You might have noticed that the commander of the Kingsguard is missing from our little gathering here as well." He paused after noting Anna's stern reaction.

"You will need to appoint a new commander, my queen. Might I recommend Ser Aldous Trant? He has been the champion of several jousting competitions in our own city and I hear he is positively remarkable with a sword. His appointment would no doubt gain us favor with House Trant in case war does rear its head," Draven said.

His musings fell upon deaf ears as pleasant memories drifted back to Anna. Ser Dracus had been like an uncle to her. As the commander of the Kingsguard, he had constantly been in her father's company and as a consequence, in her own. He was a jovial man, and would often tell her jokes that made her burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter. Of course she would always be chided by her father for misbehaving in the throne room but it had been worth it every time. However, her smile faded slightly as her mind recalled the events of the prior few days and her thoughts drifted to piercing glacier-colored eyes. She blinked to lubricate her own dusty eyes.

At times, she found it difficult to believe that Elsa was the daughter of the famed Ser Dracus. Not that Elsa's swordsmanship skills were lacking in any regard, but in terms of personality, the two were as stark as night and day. Even as a child, Elsa was dutiful and stern and she could only guess that those character traits further solidified as the years wore on. It'd been years since Anna had talked to the older girl but she had a distinct feeling that under her father's tutelage, Elsa had become a beautiful woman and a fearsome swordsman in her own right.

"I appoint Elsa Westergaard as the new commander of the Kingsguard," Anna said suddenly. Her heart began to race as her idle thoughts manifested into words. The sound of wood against tile sounded abruptly and immediately.

"Pardon, your grace?" Draven was the first to respond.

Anna chewed on her lip. She had no idea where the thought came from or why it so easily and naturally escaped her lips.

"Your grace, perhaps you should take a second to consider the… Though I realize you do have some connection with the girl… I know not whether…" For perhaps the first time since Anna had known the man, the famed spymaster was at a genuine loss for words. "A playmate does not a commander make," he finished quietly after a few moments of struggle.

Despite her unnerved state, Anna fumed slightly at the comment.

"That very well may be," she started with a slightly raised voice. "But to the best of my knowledge, _queens_ are responsible for appointments. Not their counselors."

"Well, of course your majesty; I am merely suggesting that given the girl's background, others might not see her fit in a position of such high integrity," Draven pressed on.

"And what background might that be?" Anna said sternly. A flicker of guilt suddenly passed through Anna as she remembered that this was her first official council meeting and even when considered generously, her tone was antagonistic. She couldn't exactly put a finger to the cause for her seemingly sudden anger but she suspected that the eunuch's earlier offhanded comment had played no small part in her annoyance.

"Well, she's a bast—a lowborn your majesty. True, her father was a great man but she had and has no mother. Besides, I doubt swordfighting is a trait that is so easily passed through loins. She is inexperienced at best and lacks knighthood."

Anna paused for a moment. "She can be knighted, can she not?"

"Yes, of course, but it has been a steadfast tradition that appointed commanders always be _decorated_ knights. It would be a travesty to break such a venerated practice," Draven looked slightly upset but his tone remained collected and smooth.

"I will have somebody sent to deliver the news if that is your command, my queen" Lord Aylesh interrupted.

"Thank you Lord Aylesh," Anna replied. Draven looked noticeably disconcerted but kept his mouth thin. His eyes were wider than normal.

"If that is all, then might I suggest we end this meeting early? It looks as though we have been able to find apt solutions to several pressing matters." Aylesh gave a small smile. Anna could see that Kai expressed his agreement with a slight bow of his head.

Anna nodded so fast that she began to see stars at the edges of her eyes. The three men bowed to her and exchanged farewells (some with more amusement in their eyes than others) as they filed out through the doorway. She was left to stare at the flickering flames in front of her, slightly lightheaded and pale. Appointing Elsa to the Kingsguard? Anna had had many odd thoughts during her short eighteen years but this one was extraordinary in its temerity. She hadn't seen Elsa in _years_—and not for a lack of trying either. Elsa had been the one to unexpectedly and suddenly cut off complete contact with her. One day they had been playing and talking and laughing, and the next, complete radio silence. And that had been seven years ago. Besides, perhaps Draven was correct in saying that she made a poor fit for a commander. When she was younger, she was undoubtedly the best twig fighter among the small group of nobles' children they used to play with, but clearly that was a poor consideration for knighting _anybody_. Anna scrubbed at her eyes furiously. Like the Grand Maester had said, the wellbeing of her people depended on her every decision—and this was certainly no minor concern to simply be brushed off and ignored in favor of an easier alternative. Suddenly, Anna felt ill-equipped to handle so much responsibility.


End file.
